A faint pale luminescence faded from the tips of Osha’s nails. Rovian’s gaze, momentarily unfocused from the mechanical hound’s demise, dropped to her exposed hands. A wrinkle formed between his brows. His mouth opened, a soundless question forming on his lips. “Velt! Report!” the lead examiner's voice snapped over the clatter of tools. “Cease this idleness. The rogue maker eludes us. Explain the failure of unit seven.” Rovian’s head snapped up, his expression hardening instantly. The faint confusion vanished, replaced by the familiar mask of stoic authority. He spared Osha one final glance, then turned to face his superior, his back shielding her from direct view. “Unit seven malfunctioned, sir. Likely a surge overload from proximity to my initial query. I will have it analyzed. For now, my team is recalibrating the remaining units to sweep the outer quadrants of the Atrium. The fugitive cannot escape.” His voice was a low rumble, utterly devoid of the slight tremor Osha had glimpsed just moments before. Osha slumped, nausea rising in her throat. He had seen it. The telltale gleam. But the senior officer's interruption had cut the inspection short. She discreetly pulled her oversized cloak sleeve down, obscuring her hands. The Atrium was abuzz with students scrambling to restore order, the metallic tang of ozone still hanging in the air. Rovian and the officer strode away, deep in discussion, their boots clicking against the flagstones. “Well, well. Look what crawled out from beneath the workbenches.” Osha flinched, recognizing the saccharine-laced venom. Liri Corvas stood beside her desk, a hand resting delicately on the singed wood where the hound had crumpled. Liri’s eyes, usually sharp with competitive gleam, now held a disturbing mixture of triumph and something else Osha couldn’t quite decipher. Liri picked up a loose, charred wire from the hound’s remains, turning it between her manicured fingers. “A neat trick, Osha. I didn’t know you were capable of anything beyond elaborate napping and spilling the occasional contraband gear. But this? This is… inspired. And quite illegal.” Liri’s gaze flickered to Osha’s hands, then back to the wire. “Forbidden frequency, wasn’t it? The exact trick that set the watch dogs on your trail.” Osha feigned a yawn, stretching her arms above her head. “Are you still here, Liri? I thought you’d be off polishing Rovian’s boots. My annulment papers are probably collecting dust in his office. Do try to speed things along, won’t you? I have a pressing engagement with my pillow.” Liri’s smile tightened, a predatory glint entering her eyes. “Oh, I’m not going anywhere, dear. Not until we have a little chat. Follow me. Unless you’d prefer to hold this conversation under the watch officer's eye?” Resignation settled over Osha. Liri had her. She rose, trailing after Liri through the bustling workshop and into the glass-domed biodomes that branched off the Atrium. They found a secluded bench nestled beneath a towering Sylvani tree, its bioluminescent blossoms casting a soft, shifting glow. The air here was thick with the scent of pollen and damp earth. “Alright, Liri. What do you want?” Osha kept her voice flat, betraying none of the frantic calculations racing through her mind. Liri turned, her expression suddenly serious, all traces of her usual haughtiness gone. “I want Rovian, Osha. And I want the social standing that comes with being his wife. You’re in the way. Always have been. But now… now you’re a liability to yourself, and potentially to anyone associated with you.” “Then turn me in,” Osha challenged, bracing herself. Liri scoffed. “And watch the tribunal execute Rovian’s first wife? Do you have any idea how that would look? The gossip, the scandal. It would damage his reputation, and by extension, *mine* when I finally claim him. No. That’s far too messy. I prefer clean ledgers and predictable outcomes.” Osha stared, genuinely surprised. “An alliance? With me?” “Don’t look so shocked. You’re a problem I can solve. And in solving you, I solve my own problem. Here’s the deal: You sign the annulment today. No delays, no excuses. You disappear quietly, and I, in turn, ensure that all evidence of your… extracurricular activities vanishes.” Liri leaned closer, dropping her tone to a murmur. “I saw you with the gear yesterday. I saw the glowing fingertips just now. I know you fashioned that piece. And I also know that Rovian is tearing the city apart to catch you.” “He’s looking for a fugitive, not me,” Osha said, keeping her chin up. “Don’t split hairs. He’s looking for the person who made that lotus hairpin. The person who ‘used’ him, as he puts it. And darling, he’s not just relying on the local garrison. He brought in an independent bloodhound. A tracker known only as the Scourge.” Liri’s words hung in the air, each one a hammer blow. The Scourge. Rumors in the lower rings named him a specialist who could trace the thinnest harmonics across three districts. Rovian had hired an outside dog? “And where is this man now?” Osha asked. Liri’s eyes narrowed, a grim satisfaction in them. “Rovian wants to uncover the maker's den. Where she works, where she hoards her spare parts. That tracker is currently tearing apart your private quarters on the Residential Tier. He will find your caches, Osha. Every hidden drawer. The moment he matches your signature to the traces in that room, the executioners step in. You have twenty minutes.” Osha surged to her feet. Her living quarters. The floor cavity beneath the rug held raw tuning cores, illegal brass coils, and spare harmonic filigree. A trained tracker would root them out in minutes. “The annulment papers are in my carry-satchel,” Osha said, her voice strained, already halfway to a run. “I’ll sign them. Just… help me get there. Now.” Liri nodded, a flash of genuine urgency in her eyes, mixed with a chilling anticipation. “Lead the way, cousin. Let’s clean up your mess.” They sprinted through the winding, vine-covered pathways of the Residential Tier, the lush gardens blurring into a green-and-gold streaked tunnel. The floating garden-islets passed by in a dizzying array, each noble family’s personal haven. Osha’s dorm, a small, unassuming structure tucked away at the edge of the Tassari family’s primary islet, seemed impossibly far. Her lungs burned. Her mind raced with a thousand contingencies, a thousand ways this could go wrong. A professional bloodhound was currently ransacking her floorboards. As they rounded the final bend, the main door to Osha’s dorm room blasted inwards with a jarring crack of splintered wood and a shower of arcane sparks. A figure stepped out of the dust cloud, tall and gaunt, his face obscured by the shadow of a low-brimmed cap. In his hand, held aloft like a trophy, was Osha’s favorite deep-violet veil, its delicate embroidery now crinkled and torn. He turned slowly, his eyes, like chipped obsidian, sweeping over the corridor, then fixing on Osha and Liri. A low, gravelly voice echoed through the sudden silence. “I’ve found our culprit.”

An Unlikely Alliance